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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29336010">to finish a symphony</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiositas/pseuds/curiositas'>curiositas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternative Perspective, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Era, Disc Saga Finale, Dream SMP Spoilers, Gen, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Floris | Fundy, Mentioned Jack Manifold, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, The Disc Saga, and he comes to a (kind of) grand conclusion, ghostbur is alone and left with his thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:00:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29336010</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiositas/pseuds/curiositas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The day came when Ghostbur woke up alone.</p>
<p>The day when the Disc War was won.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ghostbur &amp; TommyInnit, Tommyinnit &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>to finish a symphony</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Note: The following fanfic contains mentions of the finale of the Disc Saga.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The day came when Ghostbur woke up alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, not really alone; the first thing he saw was Friend chewing on a piece of grass. Sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he smiled as he ran a hand through the sheep’s deep blue coat. He stood up, and with Friend’s lead in hand, began to float along the street for a stroll.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a fine day for a walk then (or float, if you were a ghost). The cool afternoon breeze flew through the city, making the trees and grass gently dance and sway in its wake. The golden afternoon sun filtered through his translucent form like the stained glass windows of houses and shops. And, if you listened close enough, you could hear the birds chirping their own simple symphonies in the trees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he travelled further and further along, he slowly began to notice the silence. Sure, there were slow days on the SMP, and even for a place as chaotic as this, not everyone was up and about all the time. But today was entirely different</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>No screaming about crazy shenanigans, no chatting on the side of the Prime Path, not even any singing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aside from the whisper of the wind and Friend’s thumping hooves on the ground, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet. So, so quiet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice echoed off the walls, calling for his friends, for anyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Phil? Ranboo? Tubbo? Tommy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was true that Ghostbur wasn’t totally alone; he had his sheep, of course. But eventually, his search left him defeated as he slumped against a bench. After looking high and low, peering around corners and towers, there wasn’t a single soul to be found. Jack wasn’t in his house, Fundy wasn’t at the docks, and Eret wasn’t in their castle. The town was almost as dead as he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where in the world had they all gone?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaning back onto the wood, he began to ponder. Did they go to another festival? No, that can’t be; everyone seemed quite sullen after L’manburg was blown up for the last time. Did Tommy have another beach party? No, he would’ve gotten an invite, and Tommy wasn’t in exile anymore. Maybe they all moved away to live in the snow with Technoblade and Phil? No, everyone’s stuff seemed to still be here, and he wasn’t sure if the two of them would be willing to suddenly have a whole server of neighbors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wait. Didn’t he hear something from Tommy yesterday?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His face lit up. As foggy as his memory normally was, he remembered it quite clearly. They were sitting down on the half-destroyed stairs of the Prime Path last night, with their legs dangling off the edge. Although the air was filled with their chatter and laughter, he distinctly remembered seeing the subtle shadow of gloom on Tommy’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you sad?” he remembered asking.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The joyful glint in Tommy’s eyes dimmed slightly at his question.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tommy, what’s wrong? Did I say something?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, no, Ghostbur - you’re fine,” replied Tommy, shaking his head. He paused for a moment, glancing at the giant crater in front of them. He took a deep breath of the cool evening breeze.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ghostbur,” he sighed. “There’s a chance that tonight is my last night here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ghostbur raised an eyebrow. “Why is it your last night?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The boy was silent, shifting in his place while his gaze was fixed on a distant point in the horizon. His ocean eyes held a certain kind of restlessness that Ghostbur wasn’t sure he’d seen before.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tubbo and I are going to fight Dream tomorrow.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With wide eyes, Ghostbur searched his face for any sign that he was kidding. Perhaps this was one of Tommy’s jokes. Perhaps he would burst out laughing in a few seconds. Perhaps the two of them would one day look back at that night and chuckle about how ridiculous fighting Dream would actually be.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But he didn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The furrow of his brow, the clench of his fists, the tremble in his voice - they told enough.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ghostbur blinked. “But why are you fighting him? Isn’t he our friend?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He froze at the quick glare that Tommy gave him. The boy’s look softened and he heaved a sigh. “No, no, Dream is </span>
  </em>
  <span>not</span>
  <em>
    <span> our friend,” he responded. “You saw what he did to me in exile; he manipulated me, he took away my things, he blew up Logstedshire! He’s-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His eyes drifted to the giant crater that had once been L’manburg, the nation that he and his friends once called home.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s not our friend, Wi- Ghostbur.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But...he gave me back Friend when I thought he was dead!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dream may have returned something important to you, but he took something important from me,” spoke Tommy. A flicker of familiar fire returned to his eyes. “And tomorrow, I’m taking back </span>
  </em>
  <span>the discs.</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ghostbur had heard about the discs from the history books. Although appearing to be two small, seemingly meaningless items, they were Tommy’s most prized possessions and sparked the oldest and longest war on the SMP. Before the First Great War, before L’manburg, and even before Wilbur joined the server, there was the great Disc War. Nations rose and they fell, people lived and they died. But what remained constant were those purple and green records and the conflict that conspired between Tommy, Tubbo, and Dream because of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He never quite knew the reason why they meant so much to anyone, whether it was sentimentality or some other underlying conspiracy. But what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> know was that they were Tommy’s. They belonged to the gutsy, short-fused teenager who wasn’t afraid to challenge anyone and everyone, no matter how ridiculous the reason. The revolutionary boy who served as the first President’s right hand man, who gave them up so that a nation could live. The one whom the Blade called Theseus, the tragic hero who was exiled and forsaken by his own people. The gutsy, short-fused teenager who wasn’t afraid to challenge anyone and everyone - even the SMP’s Puppet Master.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> why the discs meant so much. They mattered simply because Tommy - the kid who never did as he was told, who never listened to anyone but himself - was willing to fight for them. Even in the face of the Puppet Master, even in the face of betrayal, even in the face of losing everything he would’ve died for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strangely, there was no pain as Ghostbur’s form began to fade. He didn’t panic as his ghostly hands slowly disappeared like snow in the morning sun. It was a peculiarly peaceful feeling, like the bliss that comes from soaring through the sky with the wind in your face. And with it came the beginnings of indescribable joy. Like sunflowers and flying flags and running rivers and the pride of long overdue, well-deserved victory.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know how it started, nor did he care. Deep inside of his soul, something made sense. The discs were home in the scarred, roughened hands of the revolutionary boy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The War had been won. His boys had done it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps Theseus wasn’t such a tragic hero after all.</span>
</p>
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